Hmm, I remember …
By this root that stretches like veins of the earth
A quad-year past when a cashew tree was debased
And was casted into hell.
I remember by this root,
It would stand alone through the months like a barren woman
As we who were little children would play in it and shed it leaves by force
Caring less about its health.
I remember towards September,
When the sun would grow hot by day,
And the dust were quick to flirting
The tree would bear fruits; bean headed
Steadfast to its stems; green and yellowed.
I remember by this root,
We little children make ‘Hay’
And throw broken sticks with determination at the yellow fruits
So we have what we kill or sometimes share the game together.
But the disappointed prays for a better morrow.
I remember by this root,
The song we sing,
The way we play and our hearts gladdens
The leaves we shed even when the tree touches other fields not the heavens.
I remember a tree once lived
But now…
Now..
No more play,
No more pluck,
No more shed
Ever since the soul massacring of the tree.
